


I Cut His Hair Myself One Night, A Pair of Dull Scissors in the Yellow Light

by afterafternoons



Category: The Book of Mormon - Ambiguous Fandom, The Book of Mormon - Parker/Stone/Lopez
Genre: Fluff, M/M, This is cute, getting back into writing, haircut, late night kitchen trope
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-19
Updated: 2019-09-19
Packaged: 2020-10-21 20:27:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,466
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20699378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterafternoons/pseuds/afterafternoons
Summary: Kevin has something stuck in his eye and needs Elder McKinley’s help to get it out. Later, Connor cuts Kevin’s hair.





	I Cut His Hair Myself One Night, A Pair of Dull Scissors in the Yellow Light

**Author's Note:**

  * For [virgin-snitch](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=virgin-snitch).

“Elder Price,” Elder Davis asks slowly from his seat at the kitchen counter, “are you okay?” 

It’s not a particularly loaded question by any means, but that’s not to say that Kevin won’t blow things out of proportion like he’s so keen on doing lately. No one can seem to pinpoint exactly what’s going on with him, but there’s a general consensus reverberating through the mission hit that everyone’s growing tired of treading lightly. 

“Yeah.” Kevin huffs, rubbing at his eye from across the counter. “I just got something in my eye.” 

“It’s your finger.” Elder McKinley asserts without a second glance, gently nudging Kevin out of the way so he can use the cutting board. 

“It’s not my finger.” Kevin complains, dropping his hands for emphasis. “There’s really something in my eye.” 

“What’re you gonna do about it?” Connor asks over his shoulder, already set to work on dinner. Maybe he’s a tad snippy, but it’s only due to the fact that he hadn’t slept well and that he’s not particularly wanting to deal with Kevin’s whining today. 

“Can you just look?” Kevin caves, “It’s really starting to hurt.” 

Connor sighs, setting the knife down as he moves to wash his hands. “Can you finish that, Davis?” He requests, gesturing to the prep work he’d started as he dries his hands on the dish towel.

Gently, he guides Kevin by the elbow towards the natural light streaming into the kitchen from the window above the sink. “Lean down.” He directs, refusing to stand on his tippy toes and Kevin does as he’s told. 

“You can’t flinch every time I try to look in your eye.” Connor tsks, one hand cradling Kevin’s face to keep him from moving, the other trying to hold open Kevin’s twitching eye. 

Kevin’ll admit he’s not exactly trying his hardest to stand still, realizing now that he doesn’t particularly want anyone’s fingers near his eyes. “I can’t help that your hands are cold.” 

After an inciting incident with the General, Kevin goes out of his way to avoid being touched unless he absolutely needs to, and right now, he needs Connor to get whatever’s in his eye out. He tries to find some solace in the fact that Connor’s hands are smaller, softer and colder and there’s a distinct lack of force or pressure used to keep him still. 

“Kevin.” Connor growls, clearly annoyed and Kevin huffs a whine as he stares obligingly back at his (former) District Leader, trying to remains grounded and present. “Look up.” 

Connor’s aware of how close they are, even if Kevin isn’t and he’s noticing now the specks of gold in Kevin’s dark brown eyes, like honey — or even the litany of freckles that dust over Kevin’s nose. “Look up.” He requests again and Kevin does as he’s told, for once. 

“Maybe you scratched it?” Connor deduces, coming up empty as he steps back and Kevin rubs at his eye again. 

“Can you look a little harder?” Kevin protests refusing to believe that answer until they’ve exhausted every option and Connor scoffs.

“With what?” 

“I don’t know.” Kevin shrugs, “A flashlight.” 

Connor keeps a straight face as he reaches under the sink for the comically large and red handheld spotlight. Kevin keeps quiet, because it’s what he’d asked for after all and he has enough sense to know if he complains, Connor will give up altogether. 

“First of all,” Connor asserts watching as Kevin’s pupil shrinks, “I think you need a haircut because your hair is in your eyes and— oh, it’s an eyelash, hold still.” 

Kevin winces, holding the flashlight for Connor as he gently pushes at his lower lid and Kevin tries not to completely freak out the closer his fingers get to his eye. 

“Got it.” Connor assures him, even despite Kevin’s restless fidgeting and he displays the eyelash on the pad of his finger as evidence before wiping it into the dish towel. “Feel better?” 

“Yeah, except now I need a haircut.” He pouts and Connor rolls his eyes. 

“After dinner.” He volunteers himself, shooing Kevin out of the way so he can finish preparations. 

“What was that?” Elder Thomas inquires, laying his suit jacket over the back of the chair beside Davis after watching the tail end of Kevin’s eye disaster. He waggles an eyebrow at Connor knowingly, but no one seems to catch on as Kevin moves to loiter at the end of the counter. 

“I had something in my eye.” Kevin explains, blinking as he wipes underneath his eye now that he’s involuntarily teared up. 

“Your finger?” Chris jokes as Connor assures him he’d already made that joke and that it was just an eyelash, “You’re supposed to wish on those you know.” 

They chitchat until dinner’s ready, the other elders fading in and out of the overall conversation until Kevin’s left with the dishes to clean up, because according to Elder McKinley’s helpful chore wheel — it’s his night. 

“Want help?” Connor offers, looking a little less formal without his tie and the sleeves of his white button down rolled a quarter of the way up his arm.

“I’m almost done.” Kevin shrugs, illuminated only by the yellow light of the lamp stationed on the far end of the counter now that the sun’s set. 

Connor works around him, grabbing the scissors from the drawer and washing them beside Kevin in the sink. He pulls over one of the shorter dining chairs, as opposed to the stools and when Kevin’s finished drying the dishes and his hands, he drops into it, facing the small lamp. 

“Be honest.” Kevin requests, “How bad is it?”

“Your hair?” Connor asks, already combing through it with his fingers, “What, you don’t look in the mirror?” 

Awkwardly, Kevin focuses his attention elsewhere despite the fact that he’s got Elder McKinley in his face. Sometimes he catches a reflection of himself as he goes about his day to day life, maybe briefly in the bathroom if he isn’t studying the sink or if the mirror isn’t fogged over by someone’s shower. A lot of issues have cropped up since his encounter with the General and he prefers to keep them to himself. 

“It’s not bad.” Connor answers, already snipping. “Just a bit overgrown and unstyled.” Despite this, he thinks, it’s surprisingly soft and he’d readily admit he’s the tiniest bit jealous that Kevin manages to make disheveled look good. 

“I ran out of product.” Kevin confesses, pretty sure he’s gone cross eyed, studying the buttons of Connor’s shirt rather than the smatter of freckles across his face. Again, he’s comforted by Connor’s gentle touch — the antithesis of rough, calloused hands yanking him around and bending him at their will. He reminds himself that Connor’s hands are small and soft. 

“It’s not bad.” Connor repeats, concentrating, “I like it like this . . . it’s just in your eyes.” 

He’s focused and Kevin trusts him, trying to hold his breath so he’s not breathing into Connor’s face. “Are you breathing?” Connor asks, eyebrows furrowed and Kevin nods. “I won’t ruin your hair, I promise.” 

“I’m not worried.” Kevin replies in earnest as Connor steps back to admire his work thus far. “Thanks, by the way.” Kevin adds. 

“Not a problem.” Connor shrugs off Kevin’s appreciation, reveling instead in the time spent together. “Your eye better?” He double checks and Kevin nods a second time, not thinking about the fact that Connor’s trying to cut his hair — luckily there’s no issue. 

“I believe you’re done.” Connor finishes, sliding the scissors onto the counter as he double checks. Gently and teasingly, he pats the side of Kevin’s face and when Kevin stands to shake out his hair, he returns the chair to the dining table set. “Do you feel lighter?” He teases, looking to the hair on the ground and Kevin beats him to the broom — which, remarkably, is a small gesture but already one that tells Connor that there’s more to Kevin than his questionable first impression (and appeal, if you ask Chris Thomas.) 

“I do.” He nods, hair clumping in a pile that Kevin delivers to the trash. “Thanks, again.” 

“Any time.” Connor promises, awkwardly lingering not that Kevin seems to notice or mind. He sticks around as Kevin puts the broom away and switches off the small lamp, walking with him down the hall towards their rooms. 

“Have a good night.” Kevin smiles and it feels anticlimactic, but those honey eyes and that warm smile is enough to melt Connor’s heart as he leans into the doorway of his room. 

“Goodnight, Elder Price. Sweet dreams.” Connor waves, feeling a bit like the guy who walks his date to the car or the porch at the end of the night as he walks himself back to his room.

**Author's Note:**

> I’m aware the next lyrics from the title are, “He told me that I had done alright and he kissed me ‘til the morning light.” But sometimes you don’t get that gratification. 
> 
> I saw this prompt on Tumblr by virgin-snitch and I just had to write it to get over my writing hiatus. 
> 
> Thanks for reading! (I always enjoy a nice comment <3)
> 
> tumblr & twitter: afterafternoons


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